This year I had my biggest and toughest challenge ahead of me. I was going to do the Iron Butt Associations 10/10ths ride July 2-11, 2004. Ten thousand miles in ten days. I also decided to do it as a fundraiser for the American Cancer Society in memory of my mother who lost her 13 year fight with cancer 15 years ago. The �one goal� was to raise $10,000.
Five weeks before the ride I began contacting the industry companies and put it out on a couple motorcycle lists. The word spread to other lists, both motorcycle and not, in the next week.
July 2nd was on me before I knew it. There wasn�t much preparation needed. The route had been worked out months ago and from experience I knew exactly what I needed to pack and where everything fit. The bike was mechanically ready, I was physically ready, and most importantly I was mentally ready. Mechanical problems or sore muscles can be dealt with on the road. Being under the helmet 18 hours a day for 10 days with all the voices in your head being the only thing to listen too is a daunting challenge. A positive and driven mindset are essential to this ride as this leads to efficient gas and meal stops, the push for that 100 miles you have left for the day when it is already 11:00 at night, and the energy to get up at 4:30 in the morning after only 4 hours of sleep knowing you have yet another 1000 miles or so to ride that day after you�ve been doing that for 7 days already.
Last minute laundry and packing, which has always seemed to be the norm for me, and other things put me two hours behind getting to sleep on Friday night. The two o�clock alarm seemed to come much too early, but I was able to get almost six hours of sleep. As will be the norm the next nine mornings to follow, the weather channel is on in the background as I get ready. Rain down south and perhaps as soon as Illinois.
Well, I�m ready to go. We�ll, I�m ready to go. I kept telling myself this as I was double checking that I indeed was ready to go and hadn�t forgotten something. I rolled the bike out of the garage, made sure that yes, I closed the garage door, and thumbed the starter. The very early morning silence was broken by the diesel sounding rumbling of the Triumph triple. And I was off. One last look over my shoulder to ensure that yes, I closed the garage door.
The first stop on this trip was the downtown fire station. I called the day before to see if there would be any firemen awake at 3:30 in the morning and never got the call back confirming that. Riding down Coldwater Road the large full moon lit the way enough that I really didn�t need the headlight. With a glance to the large night light I noticed the image of a man taking the pose associated with the westward movement across the continent. He was standing legs shoulder width apart with his right arm extended straight and his left arm out and bent up as if motioning the wagon train on it�s great westward journey. For as long as I could see the moon I kept glancing at it to tell if I really saw what I thought I did. After all, this was just the first morning and I shouldn�t have been seeing things yet. I took this unearthly image as a sign of good luck.
I rang the doorbell at the firehouse, and waited, and waited. Finally a younger guy, who had apparently been sleeping, came to the door. I told him why I was there and asked if the assistant chief had called to let someone know I�d be there. He knew nothing and of course no one else was awake. So as not to piss off the people I would be asking to be IBA witnesses for the start of my ride I told him I was sorry for waking him and headed off to the police station.
I sent an email to a police officer I knew the week before about arranging witnesses but never got a response. I really didn�t want to have to go to the police station and try to explain what I was doing and ask for witnesses but I now had no choice. Arriving at 4 am I went in and explained to the women behind the glass what I was doing and why I was there, hoping one of them saw the article in the paper a couple days before. They were suspicious as I expected. When she asked me if I had any ID I thought that was strange but figured if it would help I wouldn�t question why. She looked at it, tap, tap, tap on her computer, and I realized she was checking to see if they had anything on me. I just smiled and laughed inside. I heard them talking and I caught the words Iron Butt. One of the women in the adjacent room said one of the guys from first shift told her something about that. Maybe he saw it in the paper and told her. They all walked into the other room. One came back out and asked if I was on parole. That time I couldn�t help but to let out a laugh and replied no with a tone of certainness and disbelief in that they even asked. She went back to join the others. Finally they all came back out and told me that one officer would be out in a moment but it would be a few minutes before the other came down.
After the second officer signed the paperwork he asked where my bike was. I told him it was out front in the visitor parking. My view was blocked as he told me to tell those hooligans to get away from my bike. What? Granted the police station was not in the best part of town, but that would be pretty bold to mess with my bike in the police parking lot. As I stepped out of the building I saw that he was referring to three uniformed officers coming in from their parked cars that were stopped looking at the bike. They asked a couple questions and I�m off, again.
On the way to the gas station across town I thought I had realized what I was about to undertake but was surprised I didn�t have any sense of worry or uncertainty. But maybe between having thought about this ride for a couple years and the months of thought and planning it just hadn�t sunk in yet that I was really doing it.